I've got prose
in different area codes

Her lips thrum
like reverb droplets
as I steal
trembling kisses
before the mad dash
out the door
into sun brushed
ruin

All their money will turn to dust
The shopping centre cannot hold
The television signal to noise ratio
borders on obscene
The light of their superstars
already dead when they hit
Their songs will fade
as the music boxes burn out
It all rusts
It all goes silent
It all burns off
Everything decays
Everything dies
But if I can hold on to you
in our unspoken covenant
on the edge of forever
perhaps we can defy the sweeping hands
of this mortal coil
and turn our backs on time

The number of universes
she had traveled was infinite
She couldn't stop thinking of you
in any of them

You can be my pinewood forest
and I'll wander through your mists
ducking through
your hollowed out trees anytime
I'm your huckleberry
bushes growing
under your treetops
and you can eat my berries anytime
Recall that
huckleberries only grow wild
and so do I.

I feel this inhuman suffocation
when I step out into
that officially sponsored
fog machine artificial haze
to start the music blaring from
speakers that don't say a thing
Spitting throat lumps and grinds
lurching like scary monsters
controlled by raving mad super creeps
hiding behind walls of
electronic lies
and vinyl appropriations
committed to automation
in
beats making stage cages swing like
stray lanterns filled with
questionable electrocuties -
wild tarts that can't be broken
but you can stare all you want
at
Black-light-blemish-broken-razor-testimony
obscured with slashed fishnet and
splashed neon body paint
Move to the wavelengths
going to grave lengths
as
my dead beats facilitate this
Deja Vu machine world
of
backdoor audition submission
courtesy of half massed scrubstep poser pseudo-players
and maneaters planted on dance floors
Wearing short skirts low cut shirts
high heels long hair and plenty of
emotional baggage
and
I find myself feeling somewhat sorry
and guiltily enticed by the decadent
conspicuous consumption and sinister
seduction I cannot escape
until
The song crescendos and I slam an invisible hand
into the wreck chords
from now until the end of rhyme
I want to stop the whole thing
but this is what I signed up for
this is my punishment
so
with reluctant crossfader switchblade hands
I scratch the noise back into the air
and out of my head
because
the
beatings
must
go
on

I staggered into our front door this morning
and I can't find the broken home
I feel like we have
because you take good care of the place
while I can't manage to take care of myself.
Dragging myself through the kitchen I
tip my king over in the chess
game we were playing
I know you're just learning the game
but I'm sure you know that means I forfeit.
I can feel the warm alcohol tinge to my
sweat this morning
the soft metallic taste invoking more memories
than I want to admit
I struggle to take in the
glimmer of dust floating through
seeping in light
everything else with its soft haze around it.
I kind of thought everything would fall into place
for us this year
but until death do us part seems like a sick joke
with how much we've struggled
to make it through the first week.
I walk into the bathroom and remove my ring
I always wanted that groove in my
finger from a ring settling in
getting comfortable and making itself
a home
But I've never managed to make myself
someone you can live with.
I had hoped we could rest upon each others bones
when they got too old to hold us on their own.
I drop into our bed and my head swims
will dull ache and deep remorse
as the future we planned blots itself out
another victim of broken and fermented promises.